


ministry man

by cupsofteaandcoffeespoons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29288508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupsofteaandcoffeespoons/pseuds/cupsofteaandcoffeespoons
Summary: He wants his name in lights, on lips, in history books – but he is still a Weasley, and there are some prices he will not pay. (or, a percy weasley character study).
Relationships: Audrey Weasley/Percy Weasley, Penelope Clearwater/Percy Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	ministry man

He is born in late August, named for a Knight of the Round Table like his father before him. He is a quiet baby, a quiet child. His brother Charlie is a wild thing, a free spirit from the time he first starts walking. When the twins are born, the chaos of the Burrow multiplies, and Percy prefers to stay in the background anyways.

He spends most of his time reading. He works his way through the books for little kids first, the ones on the bottom shelf in his family’s living room. When he outgrows those, he turns to the Muggle library in the nearby town, his brothers’ left-behind textbooks from school years past. His father teaches him to play chess – patiently, kindly – with worn out pieces and a peeling board. When he is older, he will teach his little brother Ronnie the same way Arthur taught him.

When he is nine years old, he goes to Diagon Alley with his parents. They shop secondhand, buy threadbare robes and the scratchy, cheap yarn nobody else wants to touch. A child sneers at his too-big shoes and old-fashioned glasses from across the cobblestone street, and something heavy and acidic settles in his stomach.

He will later realize that feeling is embarrassment. It is also greed.

***

When his name is called, he marches forward. His steps are stiff and even, his face freckled and set. He sits down on the stool – he is steady and composed, a contrast to his frantic, fretting classmates. He spots Bill and Charlie at the Gryffindor table just before the brim of the hat falls over his eyes.

The Sorting Hat tosses Hufflepuff out within a second. Ravenclaw is considered but discarded – Percy is bright, but he does not seek knowledge for knowledge’s sake.

He is brave, yes, but more than that, he _wants._ His head is filled with desire; he has ambition in his blood and bone marrow. He wants greatness, recognition, Prefect and Head Boy and, one day, Minister. He is ambitious, ambitious, ambitious. So the Hat offers Percy Weasley – pureblood, blood-traitor, eleven, full of potential – Slytherin.

He hesitates. He waffles. He wants to be significant, to mean something; that is true. He thinks of his parents, red hair and red-trimmed robes, dirt-poor and brave and morally upright. He thinks of his brothers, who wear lions on their chest and help him find his glasses when he loses them. He imagines the look on Charlie’s face when he talks about taming dragons one day, the way it felt to balance on Bill’s hip in the secondhand bookshop when he was small.

He has potential, and he has family. Sitting on a stool in front of his school, he realizes that he might have to choose between the two one day. He does not want to make that choice quite yet.

He wants his name in lights, on lips, in history books – but he is still a Weasley, and there are some prices he will not pay.

“Gryffindor!” the Hat shouts, and his fate is sealed.

***

He quickly realizes that he is not academically gifted the same way that Bill is. Charlie is good at Quidditch, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology, mediocre at the rest. Bill is incredibly bright and makes straight Os without even trying.

Percy has to try. His grades are good – some might say great – but they are the result of hard, ugly work. That first term, Percy does not spend warm afternoons out by the Great Lake with friends. He does not get into snowball fights, play games of Exploding Snap in the Common Room, or watch Quidditch matches with the rest of his house. He holes up in the library, at a dusty back table in the History section, with textbooks and parchment and limitless drive. By Halloween, the professors have noticed, as has Bill. He has a long conversation with his brother at that dusty table Percy has come to view as his.

“You need to talk to people,” Bill says, “make friends. School’s important, of course, but perfect grades aren’t worth this kind of stress.”

That is easy for Bill to say; he’s brilliant without trying, but Percy gets the point. He takes a breath, looks into his brother’s eyes, and then glances down at the stacks of books in front of him.

Percy makes another choice. He leaves the library.

***

In his second year, he becomes friends with Oliver Wood. They have shared a dorm for a year now, and they share the distinction of alienation. Percy spent a whole term lonely at that back corner table; Oliver used every spare moment to sneak out into the Forbidden Forest with a filched school broom.

Wood is obsessive, irritating, and far louder than is proper. Wood is also ambitious. When new Quidditch captain Charlie picks him as Seeker, there are sneers and mutters. He is only twelve, after all, scrawny and long-limbed and inexperienced. Charlie picks him because Wood wants greatness, and he is willing to work for it. Percy is the same way.

Percy trades in his library table for a first-row seat in the stands. He spends most days there, tucked over parchment and Potions books, waiting for the sun to go down. When it does, he and Wood make the trek up to the Great Hall in silence, Wood’s broomstick held carefully in bloody, calloused hands.

***

The twins come to Hogwarts that next September, and Percy finds himself with a near-constant headache. The twins are _menaces_ – they are Bill’s intelligence and Charlie’s wildness and his own work ethic all mixed up together, dedicated not to school or Quidditch but to making bright, humorous, terrifying messes. They find a secret passage out of the school within their first week, and then another, and then another one after that. They lose more house points that first term than most people lose in their entire tenure at Hogwarts, but they do it with smirks, grins, quips so amusing that none of their housemates can stay mad at them. They draw Lee Jordan into their orbit. Their grades drop. Their stars rise.

Percy hates them for it, just a little. They’re his little brothers, and their chaos reflects poorly on him, on his parents. Their boisterous nature and troublemaking spirit, most concentrated and volatile in the Gryffindor common room, starts to interfere with his studies, and though he’s still just as diligent and determined as ever, he sleeps a lot less, wishes that Fred and George would just grow up a little, wonders what it must be like to shine that bright just by being.

He meets Penny Clearwater that third year, seated at the History section back table that had been his safe space first term. Wood is sick, in the Hospital Wing with a very contagious flu (no visitors allowed, Pomphrey had said), so he retreats to his old stomping ground. She smiles at him when he approaches.

“You’re the one who can stay awake in History of Magic, right? That’s impressive – all us Ravenclaws have just started wearing earplugs and self-studying, because we couldn’t help falling asleep.”

Percy grins back at her. In Penny’s eyes, he is not Fred and George’s studious older brother, or that swotty Gryffindor third year, or even a blood-traitor Weasley. He is Percy, and she likes him for his ambition, his seriousness, his pride, all those things that set him apart.

***

Fourth year comes and goes, another two unremarkable terms at Hogwarts. He and Penny start to meet up on the days Wood has practice, at that back corner table where they first met. He goes to Quidditch matches every time one is played; he cheers for Gryffindor when his house plays and wears Ravenclaw blue when they don’t. Fred and George are masterful Beaters – eager and daring and full of dazzling kinetic energy – and Percy feels pride swell in his chest every time they swing a bat or dodge a Bludger.

Most of his time, though, is spent in the common room, writing essays, practicing spells. On a rainy evening in early November, a tiny, timid first year named Katie Bell walks up to him and asks if he could explain how to make a Hair-Raising Potion. He teaches her the same way he’d taught Ron to play chess, the same way Molly had taught him to set the table. When she finally gets it – when it clicks – she grins, big and bright.

Two days later, he finds himself side-by-side with Penny, walking a group of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first years through the proper wand movements for Charms class. The next term, a few Gryffindors trickle into this little study group that’s formed – Katie among them – and Percy pretends not to see the huddled Slytherins sitting a few tables away. If he starts speaking a little more loudly than usual on those days, nobody says anything about it.

The Prefect badge that comes in the mail that August is not a surprise to anyone – not even Percy.

***

Little Ron joins Gryffindor, Harry Potter at his hip, and Percy tries his hardest to pretend he’s not worried about them both. Of all his siblings, Ron is the one he feels the most kinship with. Bill was doted on and bragged about from the day he was born; Charlie and the twins are eye-catching daredevils, nobody could ever forget about them; Ginny is a teeny tiny spitfire, all tangled fiery hair and bloody knuckles. Ron is like Percy. They are quieter, less impressive, more likely to fade into the background. Percy worries about Ron.

Percy also worries about Harry, the little legend with too-big clothes and a too-small frame. He wonders if anyone else notices the way Harry jumps at loud noises, or the way he curls up in the common room corner like he wants to fade away, or the way he never seems to eat very much. He keeps an eye on those two boys – his brothers, the both of them, even if one of them doesn’t know it yet – and spends a long, draining afternoon with Penny up in the branches of a tree by the lake, talking through his worries and trying to come up with a plan.

The Headmaster says something about certain death locked away in a third-floor corridor, Harry’s broom tries to hurl him off, and Hermione Granger almost gets massacred by a troll in a bathroom. Percy frets, and studies, and keeps an eye on that trio, wondering what kind of game Albus Dumbledore thought he was playing.

When the rumors start making the rounds after exams – _Did you hear Granger, Weasley, and Potter killed Quirrell? –_ Percy sprints up to the Hospital Wing, Fred and George and Neville Longbottom hot on his heels. He stops in his tracks at the sight of Ron, dazed, and Hermione, exhausted, teary, sitting side-by-side next to Harry’s bed.

Pomphrey ushers the twins and Neville out, but Prefect Percy, serious and responsible, gets to stay. Ron tells him the story of the hidden snares under a trapdoor, the sacrifice he’d made to get Harry and Hermione through. She picks up the tale from there, talks about a poisonous logic puzzle and a mirror, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named living on the back of Quirrell’s head, a parasite but not a ghost.

Gryffindor wins the House Cup. Dumbledore gets rid of the death corridor, sends Harry Potter back to a family that mistreats him, doesn’t say a word to Arthur and Molly Weasley or to Dan and Emma Granger about what their children have been through.

Percy does not trust Albus Dumbledore. Not after this.

***

Harry shows up in the middle of the night with the twins and Ron in tow, quieter and thinner than he’d been since Percy had first met him. Ron jabbers on about a rescue mission – _“They were starving him, Mum! There were bars on his window!”_ – and his mum brushes it off. Percy knows why.

Dumbledore put Harry with his relatives. In Molly Weasley’s eyes, Dumbledore can do no wrong. Percy bites his lip and watches his father’s reaction to Ron’s claims; his father is worried, but Molly rules the Burrow, and Harry Potter will not change that.

Percy writes a letter to Penny, vague enough to pass muster if it falls into the wrong hands but specific enough to ensure she knows what he’s referencing. She replies that she and her mother have talked, and they’re working on some things, but that they’re not very hopeful their plans will come to fruition.

That night, Percy wishes on a star for the first time in a decade. He doesn’t think it’ll do any real good, but the stakes are too high to not try.

***

The new term starts up, and Harry Potter’s disquieting home life takes a backseat to other worries. The last Weasley takes a seat at the bench with all her brothers, pale but fierce, and Percy does not worry about her. Ginny has always been capable, and she is more than willing to fight her own battles; he has no reason to think this will change at Hogwarts.

No, Percy does not worry about Harry Potter that school year. He is worried about his N.E.W.T. level classes, clandestine meetings in empty classrooms with his new girlfriend. He and Penny study and kiss and laugh in their tree by the Great Lake, at their table in the library. Threatening messages are painted onto the walls, a cat is petrified, and Percy holds Penny’s hand a little tighter.

Ginny gets paler, gets small, sickly, weary. Percy does not notice; he is preoccupied. There are essays to write and patrols to carry out, petrified girlfriends and a scorned second year Parselmouth to ponder.

Percy does not notice. Nobody does, not until Ginny Weasley, the seventh Weasley, the only girl, the most blazing person Percy knows, gets dragged deep into the bowels of the musty stone castle. Percy does not rescue her; he does not even know she’s gone until it’s too late. He sits in his dorm and cries, silently, for Penny and for Ginny, two more people he’s failed.

Ginny is saved. Harry Potter and Ron – Ron, the left-behind brother, so full of heart and grit – get fame, notoriety, Special Awards for Services to the School. Percy gets his sister back, gets his girlfriend back, and ignores that familiar churning in his gut.

***

When Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban, Arthur takes Percy aside and explains to him what the stakes are. Percy flashes back to his fifth year, when Harry Potter was the smallest student in the school, when shadows and spirits crept through the castle corridors. Percy is Head Boy, now – he is on the path he’s always wanted to tread. He is on the path to breathing rare air. He is on the path to being great, but he is still a Weasley proper, and Harry Potter still matters to him.

He does not trust Albus Dumbledore to keep Harry Potter safe, so Percy takes it upon himself. He enlists Penny (of course), and the Gryffindor Chasers, and a couple other sixth and seventh years who can keep their mouths shut and their footsteps silent. The Fat Lady’s portrait is slashed to ribbons. Ron – his brother, his kindred spirit, Harry Potter’s best friend – nearly gets stabbed in his dorm in the dead of night.

Percy frets, and studies, and kisses Penny in dimly lit corners. He polishes his Head Boy badge, waves a crimson flag in the Quidditch stands, and watches the Golden Trio out of the corners of his eyes.

Percy never learns about that threesome’s encounter with Sirius Black. Percy never learns the truth about his old pet rat. Percy gets an incredibly impressive set of N.E.W.T. scores, pats himself on the back for keeping his brothers safe, and leaves Hogwarts for what he thinks will be the last time, the sun shining off his hair.

***

His job at the Ministry is not all that impressive in the grand scheme of things, but it is something, and Barty Crouch is the kind of boss he’d have dreamed about if he had dreamed about those kinds of things.

That summer of 1994, Percy does not worry about Harry Potter. Penny mentions it in a letter – briefly, a throw-away line – and Percy skims right over it. His letters to family and friends get shorter. He stops playing chess with Ron, stops debating Ancient Runes theory with Hermione, stops coming downstairs for breakfast on weekends. Penny breaks up with him in hot, humid July, and Percy only dwells on it for a moment.

This is the start of something, he thinks, the first domino in a series of events that will one day end with him behind the Minister’s desk, in front of snapping camera bulbs and murals plastered with his image. He loves Penny, but he doesn’t dream of her, and he won’t let anyone stand in the way of the spotlight.

The Triwizard Tournament comes and goes, and Percy feels the same dread from fifth year, sixth year, seventh year crawl up his spine. Rita Skeeter spews filth, vitriol, steaming piles of shite – Percy does his best to ignore her allegations, until one day Minister Fudge himself comes in and breaks things down for Percy.

Dumbledore and Harry Potter are claiming that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – that dead dark lord from the very beginning of his youth – is back. They say he was dead. They say he is now alive.

Percy spent six months working for a cursed man without even noticing anything was amiss. He passed messages and requests along for a maniac, a lunatic, a former Death Eater.

Fudge offers Percy a promotion.

It’s suspicious. Percy knows that. It’s apparent that the Ministry and Dumbledore are gearing up for a vicious cold war, and Percy knows which side he’s throwing his lot in with. He thinks about being eleven, choosing _Weasley_ over _greatness_. He thinks about being nine, being looked down on, being treated like scum on the bottom of a shoe sole. He thinks about unconscious Harry Potter in an infirmary bed, his sister dragged down to the Chamber of Secrets, his brother nearly murdered in his sleep. He thinks about Fudge – his awful, monstrous Undersecretary and her poison pink palette, his clandestine, money-bag-filled meetings with Lucius Malfoy in the Ministry bowels. He thinks about Dumbledore, and all the ways he has failed those he claims to protect.

Percy takes the promotion.

***

When Umbridge goes to Hogwarts, Percy picks up a pen. He has not spoken to his family in months. Rita Skeeter hasn’t written a single word since June. Things feel dark, heavy, ominous, and Percy wonders if there’s more to Potter’s story than meets the eye.

Percy has chosen his path. He does not regret it quite yet. He has chosen ambition, but sometimes, blood will out, so Percy picks up a quill and a new sheaf of parchment and writes a letter to his youngest brother, hating himself with every word.

He calls Dolores Umbridge “delightful,” talks about Harry Potter in sentences dripping with scorn, and feels bile rise in his throat. It sits on his tongue, thin and acidic, as he seals it, sends it, hopes Granger reads it over Ron’s shoulder and heeds the warning written in between the lines.

In June, Lord Voldemort storms the Ministry, and things change.

***

When Dumbledore dies, Percy does not mourn for a single second. Fudge may have let his people down, but Dumbledore did the same, and in Percy’s eyes, Dumbledore’s sins are far greater – he was tasked with protecting children contained within a castle, after all, not an entire sprawling country of people.

When Dumbledore dies, Percy does not mourn. He meets Penny at a Muggle diner, the first time he’s seen her in two years. She glares at him with those sharp blue eyes, calls him a bitch, and orders a cup of piping hot tea.

It is only a matter of time before the Ministry falls to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Penny and Percy both know this – neither of them are fools. They make plans, back-up plans, last resort plans. They meet at that little Muggle café at dawn every day for two weeks, scheme and snap and figure out how they’re going to keep people safe. Percy is reminded of an afternoon in a tree, hours at a tiny library table, all of the ways he has failed, all of the ways he won’t fail this time around.

When Rufus Scrimgeour is murdered in the Minister’s office – the office Percy wants to be his own one day – they jump into action. Penny casts a Fidelius charm on a Muggle house up in Wick, hides it from view. Percy steals files, alters official government documents, runs an entire network of spies and lies from his tiny corner office, deep in the heart of enemy headquarters. Penny’s hideaway house is their base of operations, but Percy is the beating heart, and half of the Muggleborns still left in Britain are saved because of him. They are smuggled through his personal Floo, first to Katie Bell’s little London flat, then to another home, then another. They end up with Penny in Wick, Portkey to Canada, Australia, New Zealand. They survive the war. They live.

The other half are killed. It is neither a failure nor a success; it just is. For Percy, who has spent his whole life toeing the line between ambition and courage, between morality and greatness, it feels like reconciliation. It feels like redemption.

***

Percy Weasley is never caught by the Death Eaters, but when Aberforth Dumbledore sends out the call, Percy comes. He is ambitious. He is brave. He is a Weasley by birth, a Gryffindor by choice. He apologizes to his family, meets his new sister-in-law, watches his brother die.

Harry rises up from the ashes of the school that had been his only home, his safe haven. Harry stands in the sun; Percy stands on the sidelines and watches. This time, there is no envy in the pit of his stomach, no greed. There is only grief.

When the dust settles, Penny leaves the country. Fred is buried. Percy moves back into his old bedroom, drinks hot tea at dawn, mourns with the same quiet stoicism that had always been his calling card in this family, in this house.

One day, he will fall in love with a Muggle girl named Audrey, a girl with dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin. He will fall in love with her, bring her into a world that hates her on principle, raise two little girls – one magical, one not – with her.

One day, with grey in his hair and shining new horn-rimmed glasses, he will sit behind the desk that belongs to the Minister for Magic. He will sign into law a series of unprecedented new regulations – House Elf rights, Squib rights, Muggle rights – paving the way for a brave new world, paving a path that Hermione Granger will one day tread, setting the stage for her to rise to dizzying new heights. She will be remembered as a war hero, as a legend. He will be a footnote Minister, a sidebar.

One day, Percy Weasley will die. He will die a former Minister, a Gryffindor, a father, a husband, a brother. He will die.

For now, he sits at the Burrow’s kitchen table. He drinks his tea and makes his plans. He rises. He gets to work.


End file.
